When Push Comes to Shove
by FreeSpiritSeeker
Summary: Catherine Harding is hiding from a past that haunts her. Jacob Black never returned after ECLIPSE. Now living in a small town, he meets Catherine and wants to learn all of his new imprint's secrets.
1. Apology

I know many of you are a fan of my story When Push Comes to Shove. I'm sorry to have to do this to those of you who've enjoyed reading it, but the story has changed from how I wanted it to be. So I've decided to remove it for now to go back and reread and rewrite it. I hope you all will like it even more when I've rewritten it. Until then, I will be doing my best to update some of my other stories. Until then, I hope you all are very blessed!

~J.


	2. Chapter 1: Awkward Meetings

Catherine stared around her at the empty apartment she was now the proud owner of. She felt safe for the first time in months; safe and almost happy. She set the box of books in her arms on the floor and smiled, twirling around in the middle of the room, her skirt fluttering around her ankles. It felt so good to be free. She'd finally escaped the fear, the constant dread and worry, and it had only taken moving across the country to do so.

She walked over to the two large windows looking out onto the forest that nestled against the back of the apartment building. She slid them open, letting in the fresh air that carried the sharp, tangy scent of pine and loamy earth. She walked through the rest of the apartment, opening windows and allowing the cool, damp air inside.

She made her way down the stairs, carrying up boxes and bags of stuff from her small, beat-up old car. It had really been a shame she'd had to sell her old car, but she wanted to no ties to that life. No ties to Joseph. She shuddered at even the thought of his name. Even after the divorce, he'd stalked her, constantly and slowly instilling fear into her until she'd almost snapped. One long weekend in the psych ward was enough. She stopped the thought in its tracks as she felt herself begin to shake.

She made herself breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth, slowly making herself calm down. She didn't need more panic attacks. She didn't need to feel like she was dying, her breath stopping, her heart pounding so bad that she thought it would throw itself out of her chest and continue beating out the fast-paced rhythm on the floor.

And for once, the breathing seemed to help. She was able to make herself go back downstairs into the dim light of twilight. She saw a movement across the street: a man bent over, looking under the hood of the car, checking the engine. She looked above him and smiled when she saw the sign above the building that read **Black's Auto**. She wondered for a moment if the man was Mr. Black. She grabbed the last box of books-she thought she'd probably cleaned out the "free books" section of at least two of the local libraries-and carried it upstairs. "Dammit," She said, as one of them fell out. She heard it thunk several times as it fell down a few stairs. She closed her eyes, counted to three and continued up the stairs, knowing she'd have to come back to get the book.

She set the box down on the floor just inside the doorway and turned to run quickly down the stairs and grab the book. She was only too eager to shut and lock the door so that she could start some supper and start putting things away. But instead of turning and walking through and open doorway, she turned and walked into a wall made up of a very tall man who wasn't wearing a shirt. She yelped and stumbled backwards, tripping over the traitorous box of books. She shrieked as she started to fall, just knowing that with her luck, she'd break a bone or crack her skull.

But her fall was stopped short when the man grabbed her around the wrists with his big hands and caught her. She was only inches from the floor and her shriek was cut short.

"Jeez, are you ok? I didn't mean to startle you!" He asked and pulled her too quickly to her feet and she stumbled into his arms. He held her close for a second, and she would have sworn she heard him sniff her hair. She shoved against his chest, pushing herself back and away from him.

"Who the hell are you and why are you in her apartment?" She shouted at him.

He looked surprised and then grinned, holding out the book she'd dropped. "I was on my way inside when I saw you drop it, heard you keep going, so I thought I'd grab it and bring it up to you. Sorry I scared you though." He held out the book to her; she snatched it from his hand and still felt a bit nervous. Something about him didn't seem right, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what. He smiled at her, attempting to make her feel less apprehensive, but she didn't smile back.

She simply stared at him, wondering who he was and why she wasn't telling him to leave. Maybe it was the strange way he was looking at her, as if he could watch her forever. His large, dark eyes were beautiful, she admitted. Warm and smiling, but she seemed to feel a sense of sadness around them as well. "Who are you?"

He held his hand out for her to shake. "I own the mechanic shop across the street. I'm Jacob Black."


	3. Chapter 2: Panic Attacks are the Worst!

She slid her hand into his and gasped as his strong, very hot hand clasped around hers. She wanted to jerk it away, but forced herself to relax, to breathe slow and deep and even. She counted to five, and withdrew her hand so that he wouldn't know the effect he'd had on her. His hands were large and callused, with a permanent embedding of grease and dirt that no amount of scrubbing would remove. It was the hand of a trustworthy mechanic, her grandfather had told her when she was a girl, showing her his own.

She did, however, take a step back from him, putting some distance between them. "I'm Catherine. Catherine Harding. Thank you for bringing my book. I was just getting ready to grab it myself when I ran into you." Literally, she thought.

"You're not from around here, are you? Your accent…southern US?" he asked, and she smiled.

"Yes, a long way from home. But I wanted a new start; needed a new start." She surprised herself by admitting the truth. What was it about him, she wondered, that she felt so at ease with him. She'd never felt at ease around men, even before Joseph.

She wondered again why he kept staring at her. She wasn't particularly pretty, she thought. Her hair was a strange mix of brown and red, with copper-ish hints when the sun hit it just right. It was long, her one vanity; when loose it swept against her hips. Now it was confined to a tight braid that kept it out of her way. Her eyes were a dark green, the color seen in the deepest parts of the forest, rimmed in an odd gold color, making them look like starbursts. They were wide and almond-shaped, rimmed by dark, thick lashes that swept her cheeks when she blinked.

She was happy that her skin was clear, even if it did lack the healthy peach tone it had once held. Spending months inside at a time had turned her chalky and pale. She hoped that now, here, she would be able to go outside without feeling the insane urge to watch her every step, lock every door and window, and hide.

"So…I'll see you around, I guess?" Jacob asked. His eyes looked troubled and Catherine beat back the urge to caress his cheek, to tell him what was wrong. She'd taken care of everyone else for so long, now it was time to care for her own self.

"Yes it was nice meeting you. If I ever have car trouble, I know where to go." She said, smiling.

His face lit up with a smile. "Oh, you'll see me more often than that," he said, not realizing how the words twisted her up inside, how she clenched the book in her hand harder. How often had Joseph said something similar? Her blood sang in her veins as the fear constricted her mind.

"I'm your neighbor," he said, waving at her as he left, shutting the door softly behind him.

She felt her mind stutter to a slow stop as she slid bonelessly to the floor, to her knees. She laid her head down on the cool hardwood floor and made herself breathe. How many more times could she do this, go through this suffering, this feeling of agony that her mind and body put her through every time she was overcome with fear? Surely her heart would give out at some point, frozen to the point of stopping.

Suddenly there was a knock at the front door. Weary to her core, Catherine somehow managed to climb to her feet. White and shaking a little still, she opened the door to come face to face with Jacob again. He didn't notice her appearance at first, as he was into his own apartment as he spoke. "Hey, I don't suppose you'd like to-hey…are you all right?" he asked, as she tipped forward into his arms.

He caught her and held her tight, fear shooting through his guts at the sight of her so pale, so chilled. "Catherine? Can you hear me? Do you need a doctor? Tell me what I should do?" he whispered, his hot hand gliding across her cheek. He patted one cheek lightly. She opened her eyes a little, then they shot wide open and she thrust herself out of his arms. She wobbled for a moment and he threw his hands around her waist to hold her steady.

He could hear her heart beating wildly, sending blood gushing wildly through her body. He wondered what had caused her to be so afraid and he scented the air, but found nothing but his own scent and hers, and wet, cold earth. "Let go of me. PLEASE!" she begged, absolutely terrified. Now he could smell her fear, and it seemed like she was afraid of HIM!

In shock and surprise he immediately did as she asked. "Catherine?" he asked, obviously worried. She somehow managed to make it to the one and only chair sitting at the table. She lowered her head between her knees, breathing in, breathing out. Counting her breaths, using every mechanism she had for coping with a panic attack.

"Catherine, talk to me, please! What's wrong? Did something frighten you? Did _**someone**_ frighten you?" He was on his knees in front of her; his big, brown eyes searching hers. He took her hands in his and instead of sending her into an anxiety spiral, they strangely soothed her. He began to rub his hands between his own, murmuring to her in a language she didn't understand. She knew only that it wasn't Spanish, French, or German; all languages she'd learned a little of in her travels from one coast to another.

"I'm okay. I'll _**be**_ okay. It's. Just. A. Panic. Attack." she explained, forcing the words through clenched teeth. He stared at her and as her breathing evened, his chest seemed to become unknotted. He wanted to pull her into his lap, rock her until she'd calmed, but he understood that it would only cause her more alarm.

As if ashamed, she met his gaze with her own, tears glistening in them. "I'm so sorry you had to see that, Jacob. They don't come often, anymore. And almost never that severe; thank you for doing as I asked, it kept the attack from becoming worse." She smiled gently then; most of the men of her acquaintance didn't take direction nearly so well.

"Do you need me to get you anything? A glass of water? A glass of wine?" He grinned at her.

"Both sound wonderful, but the water will have to do. I'm on anxiety medication," she blushed at admitting this, "and I can't have alcohol with it." He nodded in understanding, stood and went to the sink where she'd left a glass she'd used earlier during moving. He filled it with cold water and handed it to her. She dragged her purse closer and dug inside of it to find her pill bottle. She shook one of the round white tablets into her palm, threw it into her mouth and took a large drink of water to swallow it.

"Thank you again, Jacob. The medicine will be knocking me out soon." She tried to hint that it was time for him to leave. As if uneasy leaving her alone, he asked if she would like him to stay until she fell asleep. "No. But thank you for the offer." She stood and led the way to the door. He waved at her as he left, and she locked the door behind him with a distinctive _**thunk**_ of a latch closing. He leaned against the door and listened as she closed and locked the windows.

He heard her enter the bedroom and lay down on the squeaky mattress; he waited until her breathing deepened and evened before he started down the stairs. He ran all the way to the edge of the forest in his human form. But the moment he reached the trees, he shucked off his clothing and phased. As his thoughts swirled and eddied, the combined thoughts of the pack screeched to a halt before they all gathered in joyous howls, in one single thought: _**Jacob has imprinted!**_


	4. Chapter 3: Blunders at Breakfast

The next morning, Catherine felt very groggy, always a reaction to the meds. It was one of the reasons she hated taking them at all. She drank down a tall glass of cold water and thought about her new neighbor as she opened her refrigerator door to try and find something for breakfast. There wasn't much to choose from, she hadn't had time yet to do a proper bout with grocery shopping. She did, however, find ingredients for a mushroom and cheese omelet and a pot of tea. As she whisked together the eggs and sliced the mushrooms, she thought about how kind Jacob had been, how sweetly he had asked if she'd wanted him to stay. She placed a kettle on the other burner and turned it to high, bringing the pot to a boil as she slid a tea bag in her mini teapot, placing it and her teacup onto the table with the sugar and creamer.

She heated the skillet and slid the sliced mushrooms into a little melted butter, listening as the popped and sizzled in the hot fat. When she judged they were browned enough and cooked to her liking, she poured the egg overtop, while it cooked, she grated cheese, spreading it on top of the eggs before rolling them into a cylinder and carefully sliding the whole thing onto her plate. She turned off the burner and placed the plate on her tiny table. As she poured the hot water into the small pot of tea, there was a knock at the door.

Surprised, she made her way to the door, looking through the peep hole. Her heart strangely began to race when she saw it was Jacob. And this time, it wasn't in fear. Smiling, she opened the door for him. "Good morning. You're up early. Won't you come in?"

Jacob was amazed at her change this morning. He could see the tight lines around her face; that pinched look that often accompanied a headache. But there wasn't the fear in her eyes that had been there the evening before. He sincerely hoped he had something to do with that. Then he saw that she had the table laid for breakfast. "Didn't mean to interrupt your meal," he said.

"Not a problem, company would be nice, if you'd like to stay. I think there's enough for two if you're hungry?" She asked politely.

She had to laugh when, just as he was trying to decline, his stomach growled. "Sit," she said, pointing to the other chair. She quickly sliced more mushrooms, grated more cheese and whipped the eggs. He stood and peered over her shoulder, watching her (and hoping he didn't make her nervous!) as she made the omelet. "I've never been able to get them to fold right." He said, noticing her heart rate jump a little as she realized he was standing behind her.

Placing the plate on the table, Catherine motioned for him to sit while she gathered another teacup. She placed it in front of him, poured him a cup and offered him the sugar and cream. He looked a little worried that his big hands would crush the tiny, delicate cup. "Don't worry, they're stronger than they look." she said, motioning to the cups. "You like to cook?" She asked, cutting off a bit of her omelet and eating it.

"Try to cook, I try to cook. Usually it turns out edible. I tried lessons but they weren't very interesting. I was mainly just trying to survive bachelor cooking, anyways. And this is really good, by the way," he said, trying not to laugh at the fact that he'd already eaten a dozen breakfast sandwiches from a fast food place, along with 2 breakfast burritos, a half-dozen cinnamon buns and a five cups of coffee.

"Thanks! My mom taught me to cook, plus I enjoy watching cooking shows and learning new recipes and cooking tricks." She sat back in her chair, her stomach already full even though she'd only eaten about 1/3 of her omelet. She sipped her tea while watching Jacob eat, smiling when he leaned back, groaning at his finally full stomach. "Jacob?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, his eyes feeling tired. He'd been up most of the night with the pack, running patrols in the forest around the surrounding area as they ran them around Forks and the reservation. Once they'd found that he'd imprinted, they'd wanted all his memories of his first brief and frightening meeting with Catherine. They were all sympathetic to her panic and knew that his kindness and gentleness would go far towards winning her over. "You're great, Jake!" had been Seth's parting words.

"Thanks, for yesterday, for not freaking out. You wouldn't believe how often people stare at you and just make things worse during an attack. It's like feeling claustrophobic and being put into the tightest place possible." Catherine shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"I can understand that. Was never a big fan of tight spaces, myself. I'm more an open spaces and forests type of guy," he said, with a slight grin.

She wondered about that grin, but nodded. "Me, too. My parents and I used to go camping when I was a teenager. Every year for my sister's birthday, she decided she wanted to go camping near the local river. Only bad thing about being near a river, sometimes the hottest nights turn into the coldest mornings. It would be 100 degrees the night before, you'd wake up freezing the next morning and ready for hot chocolate," Catherine said, smiling at the memories.

"Oh, the reason I came by this morning was because I know you're new here, and I have to stop and get some groceries, wanted to know if you wanted to come along so you'll be able to find it when you need it?" Jacob asked.

Catherine smiled. "That would be great. Umm…does the store have a built in pharmacy? I need to turn my prescription in, it's almost time for a refill on my anxiety medication," she explained, walking to the counter and plucking a purse off of it.

She looked up as he cleared his throat. "What?" she asked, afraid she'd missed something. "Well, the store does have a pharmacy, Catherine, but you might want to put on something besides pajamas before we go." He laughed at her expression as she looked down at herself and realized she'd been in her pajamas the entire time.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath (though Jacob still heard her). "Be right back!" she exclaimed, dropping her purse on the table and running for the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind her.


	5. Chapter 4: Shopping, Happy & Free

Catherine and Jacob spent a rather interesting morning shopping for groceries. Jacob gathered his few necessary items in minutes, but kept Catherine company while she did her shopping. While they shopped, she told him about some of the stops she'd had while traveling. "I think my favorite was a small zoo in Oklahoma. They had this beautiful wolf pack that was fascinating. I spent most of my time there watching them. There was one female, Natasha, who had a litter of six cubs. I would sit quietly by the fence for hours watching them. One day, she decided I'd been there long enough and carried each cub out of the den, put them down near the fence and laid there while they played and romped on and around her."

Jacob was fascinated and urged her to tell him more. "Natasha was beautiful. All white with these big shining brown eyes. There was such intelligence in them. Her cubs were darling, all of them but two were gray, the others were black. One of the zoo employees told me that Natasha's mate, Zed, had died just after the pups had been born and that he'd been an enormous black wolf. He'd frightened the employees often, sneaking up behind them when they'd come in to feed the wolves, jumping down on their backs and holding them onto the ground, then would hop off them and sit there like he was laughing at them."

Jacob grinned, he could completely picture that in his mind. "Most wolves are a lot smarter than people think. How long were you in Oklahoma?"

Catherine went still in front of him. It worried him. "Catherine, are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded but her eyes were still strangely blank and he caught a vague tremor in her hands. Slowly, he stepped toward her, sliding his hand around hers. Her whole hand was ice cold and he felt a frisson of fear run up his spine. What was going on in that mind of hers? "Hey," he said softly, reaching out to touch her cheek gently. Her eyes suddenly focused and she leaned out of the reach of his hand, but didn't remove her fingers from his.

"I'm ok. Sorry. Minor panic attack," she explained.

"Do you know what causes them?" he asked, wondering if she'd tell him the truth. She nodded, but didn't speak, but her fingers squeezed between his more tightly, as though seeking the warmth of his large hot hand. He smiled down at her. "Do you feel up to finishing your shopping and heading home?" he asked, and smiled again when she nodded. "That's my brave girl," he whispered under his breath, glad that she couldn't hear him.

They continued pushing the cart along, he watched as she read food labels and checked prices, smiling when she chose one brand over another as she muttered something about it tasting more like real blueberries. The last place they stopped before the pharmacy was the ice cream aisle and he hid a smile when she grabbed three different kinds of ice cream in different flavors of chocolate, and then grabbed a box of Nestle drumstick cones.

They stopped by the pharmacy department and Catherine got her anxiety meds and picked up a bottle of multivitamins after discussing which would be best for her. He saw her wince a little at the total, but she dutifully pulled out her debit card and paid for everything. He carried both their groceries out to his car, replacing the cart while she got inside and buckled into her seat belt. "So, is there anywhere else you need to go?" he asked, putting the car in gear and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Um, I don't think so, but could you drive past the library? I'd like to know where it is."

"Sure, sure," he said, pointing it out to her as they drove by. Within a few minutes he was pulling up in front of their apartment building. They carried their groceries up, almost all of it hers. She told him to sit at the table while she put away groceries. So he sat and watched as she moved efficiently around in the kitchen, putting things away in places he saw she'd already decided they should go. He watched her put away bags of different kinds of flour that she transferred to tall glass canisters, boxes of baking soda and baking powder and corn starch.

When she pulled out a rather large slow cooker, he realized he hadn't seen her buy that. "Quite a big pot for just you, isn't it?" he asked. She smiled at him as she plugged it in on the counter, reaching into a bag and pulling the ingredients out for what she was making. "I like to make them ahead of time and freeze servings for later, for when I don't feel like cooking or I have guests. Though, truthfully, other than you, I haven't had a guest in…well, probably years," she admitted.

He grinned at her and said, "Yeah, I am definitely one of a kind." The way he said it made her laugh and he reveled in the sound of it. She sounded so happy and free, not the choked and fearful voice of earlier. He found that he liked happy, free Catherine much better than frightened, worried Catherine. He decided then and there that he would endeavor to keep her happy.


	6. Chapter 5: Where she belongs

As Catherine continued to put things into the slow cooker, she could feel Jacob's staring. It made her a little nervous, but not the overwhelming sense of fear she'd first felt upon meeting him yesterday. This was a fear more easily controlled. She thought it probably had something to do with the fact that he had yet to raise his voice or his hand when something frustrated him, like the idiot kid at the supermarket who'd pulled out dead in front of him. Jacob hadn't even honked his horn, but Catherine could see he was angry and had slowly scooted herself closer to the edge of the seat closest to the door in case she needed to run away. It was a habit she had learned, a quick getaway sometimes meant fewer bruises when it came to Joseph.

But then, sometimes the bruises would come later, because she had gotten away. She closed her eyes and forced it away, locked the pain, loneliness and fear away until she could deal with it in her own way. She knew Jacob watched, because he'd watched her all morning. So she slowly chopped the onions, potatoes, carrots, celery and mushrooms for her stew while she thought about Jacob Black.

He was certainly handsome, she thought. With those dark eyes that held both humor and sadness. He was tall, much taller than she was. He was strong; he'd lifted the many bags of food she'd bought without even a grunt, carrying them up the stairs, running without even panting as she had with only the two smallest of the bags. She was certain he could probably run a marathon and still be not be even a little bit winded. But he was kind, taking valuable time out of his day to take her to the store, show her the library, carry the groceries for her, and yesterday evening, helping her through a debilitating panic attack.

But she had as many questions as she had observations about him. Where was he from? Where was his family? Did he have a girlfriend? (She blushed at that question. What was she even thinking that for?) Did he have any children? The thought of children cause Catherine to rub her hand over her stomach and instant agony ran through her system. She sniffled hard and pushed the pain back, pushed the grief back. She heard Jacob's voice call to her softly.

"Catherine, are you ok? Is it another panic attack; do you need your medicine?" She closed her eyes. When was the last time anyone had cared about her, taken care of her? "No, thank you, Jacob, I'm fine. It was just the onions got to me," She said. He didn't look like he believed her, but he didn't call her on it. She was glad. She didn't have the words to tell him yet what was wrong. It was a hurt too deeply ingrained in her soul to be told yet, to let the words, anger, pain, grief and self-loathing out yet.

"Do you need anything before I go? Anything lifted, carried…a hug?" he grinned at her, making her laugh at the hopeful look on his face. But she didn't think she would be able to handle having such big strong arms around her. It made her feel weak. But she knew she had a lot more that she needed to work for before she could casually accept a hug, or even a touch from any man. And yet, somehow, Jacob's touch didn't cause her to panic, instead it soothed, like an ointment, a balm to her shattered psyche.

"I…I think I'd like a hug, Jacob. But…but it will have to be slowly, please. I don't want to offend you or scare you if I push away from you. Sometimes my attacks can be triggered by the smallest of touches, the smallest of anything, really. But I think you're a friend Jacob, so yes, I would like a hug," she admitted, testing the waters a bit. She wasn't prepared for the look of pure and absolute JOY on Jacob's face.

It made her blush that the thought of a hug from her could cause a man like Jacob to smile like that. She watched as he got up and slowly walked towards her. She heard him muttering under his breath again, in the same language as before. She tried to understand what he was saying, but everything in her was focused instead on watching him coming closer. She forced herself to stand her ground, to not run backwards until she had no place else to go. She wanted his friendship, she wanted this hug, she wanted to not be afraid anymore.

Jacob couldn't believe it when Catherine had said that yes, she would like a hug. The joy and happiness had surged up inside him, lighting him from the inside out, plastering a giant smile on his face. He could see and sense her apprehension and so he slowly walked towards her, murmuring to himself to go slowly, calmly towards her. "Treat her like a frightened, abused animal; one prone to running away."

When he reached her, he looked down into her face, into her eyes. They were so dark a green, the gold around them making them a bit startling. They made him think of the time he'd spent in the forest, where sunlight dappled the deep green world here and there. He raised his arms slowly so that she could see every ripple of movement in his muscles. When they came around her, resting on her sides, she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He pulled her closer, slowly, leaving her room to push away if she needed to. Finally she was close enough that she laid her head against his chest, breathing evenly, amazed at how slow and gentle he had been.

Her fear was slowly subsiding as the warmth of Jacob's body seeped into hers. He smelled of pine and motor oil, and in a strange way, it was comforting. She felt his chin rest on the top of her head and smiled, she was so tiny compared to him. Jacob, meanwhile, was thinking of how perfectly Catherine fit into his arms, how good she felt there. He wondered how long it would take to convince Catherine that it was where she belonged?


	7. Chapter 6: Justenough

Catherine couldn't believe the security she felt in Jacob's arms. She slowly opened her eyes and pulled away even slower, almost afraid to look up into his face. He pulled away from her as well, his hands trailing slowly down her arms until they caught her hands and held them for what seemed like the longest time. He was smiling, his eyes closed and she wondered what was going on in his mind.

"So…um…do you…would you like to have supper with me?" she asked. His eyes popped open and his smile seemed to get even wider. She squeaked when he picked her up and spun her around, making her a little dizzy. She clutched at his shoulder, eyes wide, but not afraid. Well, not afraid of him, afraid of possibly throwing up, yes. "Jacob! Stop! Put. Me. Down!" she begged, laughing.

"Wow. You have a fabulous laugh," Jacob said, making her blush a deeper shade of pink. He set her gently on her feet. "Miss Harding, I would be delighted to join you for supper this evening," he grinned at her, took her hand and kissed the back of it, making her laugh harder.

"And you are a crazy man. Now out, I need to finish cooking. Be here by 7:00p.m." she said, shooing him out the door, both of them laughing before she shut the door behind him. When it had closed, Catherine leaned back against it, smiling. What had possibly possessed her to ask Jacob Black to supper? Maybe it was that he was so tall and strong, but so gentle, too. Or, that even when angry, he didn't strike out at her or anyone else. She wondered where all that excess anger went?

Sighing, she stepped away from the door. She knew by now that Jacob liked to eat. She'd seen him eat five double cheeseburgers to her one at lunch. So she pulled down a large canister of flour, and began measuring out flour for homemade bread. She added sugar and yeast to warm water, waited for it to bloom. When it was ready, she added it to the flour and a few other ingredients before flouring one of the counter tops and kneading the bread. She hummed to herself while kneading, her face still carrying a smile leftover from the laughter earlier. It felt as though it had been years since she had laughed.

She placed the ball of bread dough into an oiled bowl and covered it with a towel to let it rise. She washed her hands and dusted flour off of herself before she opened the windows in the kitchen and living room, letting in the cool, damp air. She pulled a book from one of the boxes and settled herself on the big overstuffed couch that the landlady had generously let her keep when the apartment had been cleared.

When she finally came up from the story she'd engrossed herself into, she realized that it had been almost four hours. It was time to punch down the dough for a second rise before putting it into the bread pans and sticking them in the oven to bake. She did this, slashing the tops of the loaves before sliding them into the hot oven.

While the bread baked, she took a nice, long soaking bath. She plugged her mp3 player into the small set of speakers she could easily move, turning it on to a playlist containing a lot of Celtic music. As the water ran, she tossed in a handful of fizzing bath salts, her one and only splurge in the last eight months. The smell of peaches and vanilla scented the small room as steam rose. She slipped into the hot water, sighing in appreciation as it began to leach the aches of her muscles away. She gave herself twenty minutes to soak and let her mind wander before she sat back up, scrubbing herself with simple Ivory soap and washing her hair with rosemary-mint shampoo. She rinsed off and stood, flicking the drain plug off with her toes, stepping out onto the bath mat and drying off.

It took only a few moments to rub lotion into her skin before she dressed swiftly, as the cool air from the open window chilled her body. A white blouse and black and pink floral broomstick skirt went over her plain white cotton underwear and white slip. Still chilled, she tugged on a black cardigan sweater. She dried and brushed her hair, closing her eyes as she braided it and tied it off. She wiped steam and condensation off of the mirror, before brushing her teeth. She debated putting on a bit of makeup, but decided against it, this wasn't a date.

The buzzer on the stove was going off just as she stepped into the kitchen, flooded with the scent of fresh baked bread. She pulled the loaves out, setting the burning hot loaf pans down on towels she'd folded on the counter to keep the pan bottoms from scorching them. While they were still so hot, she brushed the tops with butter and sprinkled coarse sea salt on their tops. She checked on the stew in the slow cooker and stirred it, checking for seasoning. She added a touch of salt and pepper, stirred it again and put the lid on it. She smiled when she heard the knock on the door.

Well, at least he was punctual, she thought, opening to door. She smiled when she looked up at him. He'd dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and a button up shirt left unbuttoned over a white tank shirt. She felt herself blushing when she saw how handsome he looked, but tried to blame the burn in her cheeks to how hot the oven had been, even though she knew it was a lie. "Jacob! Come in," she greeted him, motioning for him to come into the house. He smiled at her and walked in, sniffing appreciatively. "That smells incredible," he said, then leaned down, sniffing her, making her blush even harder. "So do you."

He grinned, seeing her pulse rocketing when he'd leaned closer. She could lie to herself about an attraction, as he was pretty sure she was doing, but her body told a different story. "Is that…homemade bread?" he asked, his mouth watering at the smell and sight of the loaves of bread cooling on the counter. She nodded and smiled, "Yes, my mother's recipe, with a bit of tweaking from me. And beef stew, as well. If you'll sit down, I'll get everything dished up." She said, walking towards the stove. She stopped when he took her hand, leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Thank you," he said simply.

There was enough heartfelt emotion in those two words that made her heart go into overdrive. "F-f-for what?" she stuttered.

Now was not the time to bring up past relationships, especially not his strange relationship with Bella, and the heartbreak it would cause. He was still incredibly worried as to how to break the news that he was a werewolf and that he'd fallen in love with her the first time he'd looked into her eyes. So he said simply, "For being the woman that you are." And that, for now, was enough.


	8. Chapter 7: Believe

Jacob looked on in amazement as Catherine began dishing up the food. Thick slices of still-warm-from-the-oven homemade bread were almost dripping with melted butter. The stew was thick and studded with chunks of potatoes, carrots, celery, onions and beef. He honestly couldn't remember ever having seen a more appetizing meal, and it had all been made by this woman that he had imprinted on.

He wondered uncomfortably for a moment how she would adjust to being an imprint. He knew there was something in her past that had frightened her, frightened her beyond the point of being able to stay near her family and friends. Something that had frightened her to the point of fleeing all the way across the country. He wished he had the answer, knew how to make it all better, to take away the hurt, the pain, and the fear.

But for now, he settled for smiling and making her feel at ease as she sat down in her own chair. She'd poured them each tall glasses of milk and smiled when she watched him take his first bite. He nearly groaned in surprised delight. She was a truly wonderful cook. He suddenly wondered how he'd gotten so lucky and then realized he didn't care, he was just glad that he had. Her cooking definitely rivaled that of Sam's imprint, Emily. He found himself wondering if they'd trade recipes, because Jacob suddenly found himself craving some of Emily's blueberry muffins.

"Catherine?" he asked hesitantly.

She was blowing on a spoonful of stew and looked up. "Yes?"

"Do you know how to make blueberry muffins?" he asked hopefully.

She grinned at him, making his heart pump harder in his chest.

"Yes, I do. I can make some tomorrow morning if you'd like to pick some up before work. I'd like to make enough for everyone there, how many people do you have working for you?" She asked softly.

"Just three of us, me and two other guys: Seth and Embry. They're friends of mine from back home, they come out every other week to work here with me, the other weeks they're back in La Push to help out at home," he explained.

She smiled. "Do they all eat as much as you?"

He laughed, a full-belly laugh that made her grin. "More. Seth's still a teenager."

"Oh my. I will triple my recipe then," she giggled at the thought of someone eating more than Jacob, who she realized was almost finished with his first bowl of the stew and was munching contentedly on a slice of bread. "Where do they stay when they're in town?"

"They share a room at the Holy Smokes Motel, just down the road. They have an agreement with the landlady. I don't know why they don't just get an apartment, it would probably be cheaper on them," he told her.

"Well, they're still young, maybe they just don't like the idea of settling down too much in one place. And maybe, like you, they consider La Push home and don't want to put down any roots here," She said after thinking for a moment. Before even realizing she'd done it, she'd gotten up and dished up more stew for Jacob, placing the bowl before him and sitting back down.

"Wow, wonderful service here," he grinned at her, making her blush. And then his face went pale as he realized she was shaking. "Catherine…what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Jacob. I just did that without thinking, it was such an automatic thing, I always used to do that for…HIM…he was so angry if he was still hungry and I didn't hurry to bring him more. I saw that your bowl was almost empty, so I got you more without thinking about it. It was an ingrained reaction and honestly, it's not you, it's me, I just realized what I'd done and it gave me a bit of an attack. I'm alright," she spoke quickly, her thoughts running on in one long sentence.

He put his spoon down and knelt in front of her, his hands lightly on her knees as if to steady her, keep her from pitching forward. "Catherine?" he spoke softly, which made her look into his eyes. Deep brown, shining with kindness and patience. How could he ever be like Joseph? There was no real feeling of malice in Jacob; there was only a feeling of safety, stability, caring. She had seen him let anger go; not let it fester and build up like Joseph had, until it became like a bomb, the slightest movement setting it off.

She blew out a breath; Jacob felt it fall softly on his face. She patted his hand and smiled, feeling the panic release her. Her breathing deepened and relaxed, she sat back in the chair. "Thank you, Jacob."

"Anytime, honey," he grinned and stood, and then surprised them both by kissing the top of her head. "You're going to be alright now. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

And for some reason, Catherine believed him.


	9. Chapter 8: Speak Easy

Catherine smiled as she packed up some of the stew in a container for Jacob while he was in the bathroom. She didn't realize she was humming to herself, happier than she'd been in longer than she could remember. Jacob was really very…sweet, she decided. He came out of the bathroom just as she was putting away the rest of the food into the refrigerator. She smiled at him and handed him a large bowl of stew wrapped in saran wrap and a whole loaf of the fresh bread she'd baked.

"Oh wow, that's for me? That's awfully nice of you, Catherine." He said, smiling down at her. He suddenly shifted back and forth on those big feet of his. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?" he asked softly.

"No, I thought I'd read a little, wait for the guy from the phone company come and set up my internet. Maybe do some painting." She smiled back at him as she spoke, his face seemed to brighten from the word no and just smiled bigger from there.

"You paint?" he asked.

Catherine blushed. "Yes. I haven't in a very long time. It's something I'd missed and decided to get back into it again. I'd picked up some basics at one of the larger towns nearby before arriving yesterday."

"What do you like to paint?" he asked, trying to keep her mind occupied for as long as possible so he didn't have to leave.

"Truthfully it depends on my mood, I've done everything from still life to portraits to landscapes." she replied.

He looked at her, a slight frown on his face. "Isn't that unusual? Don't most artists stick to one type or another?"

"Yes. But I used to get bored easily when I was learning, so to challenge me, my teacher would ask me to try different styles. I liked them all. So I never really seemed to veer towards one type or another." She looked at the clock and saw that it was almost ten in the evening. She turned a blindingly-bright smile on Jacob. "If you'll be here by 8am, I'll have those muffins ready for you."

Sensing that she was probably tired and it was almost time for her to take a dosage of her medicine, he nodded. "Will do." he said and started for the door, Catherine behind him to lock it after he'd left.

"Oh, hey Catherine?" he said, turning towards her.

"Yes?"

He looked a bit nervous, but continued. "I know we've only known each other for like…a day. But would you maybe want to go out with me? A date tomorrow night? It is Friday, after all," he said, as if trying to keep her from thinking too hard about him asking her on a date.

Catherine felt a blush staining her cheeks. She was nervous, she hadn't dated in years. And her last relationship had ended VERY badly. But for some reason, she really wanted to go on a date with Jacob Black. Every cell in her body was screaming yes. Except for her brain, it was screaming, "No, take it slowly! You don't know this man! He could be even worse than Joseph!" But when Catherine looked up into his eyes, eyes that held so much softness, warmth, and yes, a little hurt, she couldn't say no. Without even realizing she'd spoken, she let out a soft, "Yes."

Jacob grinned and before she could speak again, leaned down and kissed her forehead. Catherine would have sworn she saw a faint flush in his cheeks as well. It was so strange to be adults and blushing like teenagers, Catherine thought. Jacob quickly gathered the bowl and bread and headed out the door, a grin evident on his face. He looked like he was walking on air.

Catherine, however, was immediately reeling in dark, murky thoughts. Why had she said yes? Was she going to regret it? She didn't really know anything about Jacob, not anything really important. He could be a mass murderer for all she knew. No, she thought suddenly, no, Jacob would never hurt anyone. It just wasn't in him. And from the pain in his eyes, Catherine began to think maybe he'd been hurt in the past himself.

So for now, she simply finished cleaning up from supper, washing the few dishes and drying in them before putting them away. She stood there for a moment before deciding to make the muffin dough ahead of time. She was glad that she had picked up fruit at the store, including blueberries, since she liked to put them on top of her oatmeal or in her pancakes. From the cabinet, she pulled down a large container of flour, the baking powder, sugar and from the refrigerator she took eggs, butter and milk. She looked over her recipe before she began:Blueberry Muffins

3 tbsp. butter2/3 cup sugar1 egg, beaten1/2 cup milk1 1/2 cups flour2 tsp. baking powder1/2 tsp. salt1 to 1 1/2 cups blueberries

Cream together butter, sugar. Beat in egg. Add milk.

Whisk together flour, baking powder and salt.

Fold in 1 to 1 1/2 cups blueberries. Turn batter into greased muffin pan (12 cup).

Bake in a preheated 350°F oven for approximately 25 minutes.

While still warm from oven, brush with melted butter and sprinkle with coarse sugar.

Makes 12 regular sized muffins.

She smiled, she knew she was going to have to make a whole lot more than twelve, Jacob would easily be able to eat that many himself. She began to hum as she creamed the sugar and butter, added the eggs, milk and flour. She left the blueberries out for now, she'd add them in the morning, folding them into the prepared batter so that it wouldn't stain the entire batter purplish-blue. When the batter for the three pans of muffins was ready, she poured it all into the largest bowl she had and covered it with saran wrap before placing it in the refrigerator. She yawned and was startled to see that it was almost eleven-thirty. She quickly washed everything and sprayed the muffin tins so that she wouldn't forget to in the morning. She covered the tins with dish towels and left them ready on the counter for in the morning.

She sighed as she unbraided her hair, back in her own room. She changed into pajamas and slid the window open a little, letting in the brisk night air tinged with spruce, fir and pine. She pulled the blankets around her shoulders and let her mind wander over the day before she fell asleep. Not so surprisingly, her last thought before she fell asleep was of Jacob Black.


	10. Ch 9 Dinner Date Dress-Up

**I am so very sorry it took me so long to update this story again. I've had god-awful writer's block with anything Twilight-related lately. But I hope you all enjoy!**

**~J.**

* * *

Morning came too soon, it seemed and Catherine, though looking forward to seeing Jacob, was not entirely ready to be up yet. But she stoically climbed out of bed and put on clean clothes. She shuffled into the kitchen, turned the oven on and waited for it to preheat. She took the batter out of the refrigerator and folded in the blueberries, after tossing them in a bit of flour so they wouldn't sink to the bottom of the muffins. She used a ladle to dip the batter into the tins that had been prepared the night before. She slid all three trays into the oven and set the timer for twenty-five minutes.

Catherine put the tea kettle on the stove and it was soon whistling. She poured a spoonful of loose Earl Grey tea into the small bright yellow teapot and got out her matching mug. She set them on the table and brought the sugar and cream to the table as well. She plucked a book from a tall stack that she had yet to put on the shelves. She read as she poured the tea through a strainer and into the mug. She added two teaspoons of sugar and dollop of cream to her tea, stirring it and taking a sip. "Perfect," she said to herself, a small smile gracing her lips.

She read until the timer went off. She took the tins from the hot oven and placed a tray of bacon in the oven. She reset the timer for twenty minutes and allowed the muffins to cool in the pans, reading a little more while she waited. When the bacon timer went off, she took it from the oven, placing it on top of the stove. She plucked the muffins out of their muffin-cups and placed them on cooking racks. She melted some butter in a sauce pan, dipped the muffin tops into it and then dipped them in coarse white sugar. She placed them back on the racks to cool completely.

Catherine checked the clock, pleased to see that it was only seven. She smiled when she heard a loud thumping from the apartment next door. Jacob was awake. Catherine pulled lettuce, tomatoes and mayonnaise from the refrigerator. She sliced the tomatoes, tore the lettuce into palm-sized pieces and set bread in the toaster to toast. When the toast popped up, she slathered a layer of mayonnaise on it, then layered bacon, lettuce and tomatoes on top. _The perfect BLT, _she thought. She jumped a little when there was a knock on the door, but she knew who it was.

She opened the door to see Jacob standing there, looking a little bleary-eyed and sleepy. "Perfect timing, breakfast is ready." She motioned for him to come in and he looked in surprise at the muffins on the counter. The kitchen smelled divine. "Sit, I made breakfast for us," she said, pointing at the table.

He looked surprised. "I thought the muffins were breakfast?" he asked.

"No, those are for you and your friends later. This is breakfast now," she said, placing a plate in front of him. Three large BLTs sat on the plate, she was already becoming accustomed to Jacob's appetite.

Jacob was completely blown away. "Catherine...wow. You're amazing, you know that. You didn't have to do this."

Catherine merely smiled and walked to the cupboard, pulling a blue mug out and grabbing her own plate with a single BLT on it. She sat down and poured Jacob a mug of tea. "Sugar or cream?" she asked politely.

"Both, please," he said, after swallowing a mouthful of sandwich. "This is your homemade bread, isn't it?" he asked. It was crisper and had more texture than the regular white bread he bought at the store. It held up better, too, it didn't crumble into tiny bits with the first bite.

"Mmmhmm," she said, taking a careful bite of her own sandwich, which she'd cut into halves. She sipped at her tea and watched him eat, head bent close to the plate so as not to make a mess. She handed him a napkin, which he acknowledged with a quick, "Thank you." She smiled at him.

When he'd finished, he sat back in the chair and seemed perfectly content at that moment. He glanced at the clock on he microwave. "Damn," he said, and stood to leave. "Jacob, wait, Don't forget the muffins," Jayne said and walked to the counter where they were sitting. She pulled a large picnic style basket from one of her cabinets. She lined it with tea towels and placed the muffins inside, placing another tea towel over them. She handed the basket to Jacob. He smiled at her, kissing her forehead again. "As for tonight, our date (he said date like it was the most amazing thing in the world), a nice dress, maybe?" he looked hopeful. Catherine smiled.

"Okay, Dress it is." She surprised herself when she found herself leaning up to kiss his cheek. As she pulled back, there was some strange emotion in his eyes. A mix of surprise, pride and sheer joy. Catherine felt herself blushing and stepped back a moment as a frission of fear raced through her veins. _NO! Not here, not now! I will NOT hurt him like that, _she fought with herself, pushing the fear down, binding it into the back of her mind. As if sensing her inner turmoil, Jacob reached out and caressed her cheek softly with his large, hot hand. The heat seemed to soothe her fears and she smiled at him. "Go, before you're late," she said softly.

He grinned at her, breaking whatever hold the fear had on her and nodded, whistling as he left. She automatically locked the door behind him, but moved to the window to watch as he made his way across the street to his garage. She could hear his whistle still, though faintly. Catherine watched as his friends pulled up and got out of the car. Typical guy friends, they tussled a little before they got down to business. She grinned when Jacob pulled one of the muffins from the basket and the two other young men shoved each other trying to grab it first. It made her laugh, and as if they heard her, they all turned towards her window.

She gasped and blushed, and stepped back away from the window. She looked around the room and began to put away some of the books that were still in boxes. She turned on her cd player, popped in a cd of Celtic music and listened to the soaring pipes, flutes, drums and violin. She hummed along with the music as she put the books away, and then unpacked her easel. Catherine took a fresh, blank canvas and placed it on the easel, placing a few other blank canvases behind it, leaning them against the wall for when she wanted them. She took a large watercolor she'd done of a cottage deep in the woods, surrounded by animals and hidden in one spot, a tiny fairy watching a child splash in the stream. She hung it above the sofa and smiled, it was perfect there.

When she finished with most of the unpacking, she was hot, sweaty and desperate for a shower. She shrieked when she saw that it was already five thirty in the evening. She scrambled into the bathroom. She threw her clothes off and into the hamper, turned the shower as hot as she could stand it and stepped under the battering spray. She scrubbed herself clean, washing her hair three times before it felt clean again. As she stepped out of the shower, she dried herself off as quickly as she could and began to blow dry her hair. She rarely did so, preferring to let her hair dry naturally. As it dried, it began to wave and curl a bit. Pleased with it, Catherine pulled it back into a loose bun with tendrils hanging down at her temples. She applied moisturizer to her face, luckily she was one of those rare people that don't need foundation. She applied a little blush to her cheeks, then slid eyeliner along the lash-line of her eyes. The smoky purple color made her eyes pop and she added a layer of pale violet and lavender shadows. She slicked on pale rose lipstick and a touch of mascara.

Pleased with her appearance, she hurried from the bathroom stark naked without realizing it. She pulled a pair of pretty , lacy black panties and it's matching bra from her lingerie drawer and pulled them on. She opened her closet and found a lovely dark navy blue dress, halter-style around her neck, but flared out at the waist a little and reached past her knees. She pulled on a pair of black sandals over nude-colored hose. She checked herself in the mirror and smiled, it looked very nice. Not overly formal, but perfect for a little dressier style of date. She opened her jewelry box and took out a small sapphire pendant on a silver chain. Matching sapphire studs went into her ears. She heard the doorbell and gasped out a quick, "Coming!" and hurried to the front door.

She opened it and found Jacob standing there in a white button-down shirt, a nice pinstriped black suit jacket overtop. He wore a pair of black slacks and his hair had been pulled back and secured in a tail. "Wow. Catherine...you look so beautiful!" he said, making heat rise to her face as she blushed.

"Thank you, Jacob. You look incredible as well."

"This is for you," he said, handing her a beautiful peach-colored rose. She smiled and leaned her face down to sniff it, suffusing her nose in the scent of a summer rose garden.

"It's beautiful, Jacob, thank you." she placed the rose quickly in a small crystal vase of water. Jacob held his arm out to her.

"Ready, lovely lady?" he smiled at her. She took his arm and smiled back at him. "Ready, good sir."


End file.
